Wall Street Wonder
by fadedelegance
Summary: Rated T for language. Mike and Connie meet for the first time and work their first case together, investigating the murder of a wealthy stock broker.
1. Chapter 1: Instant Connection

**Disclaimer****: Dick Wolf and NBC own "Law and Order". I don't. **

**A/N****: I'm dedicating this fic to everyone who has ever read one of my "L+O" fics here, as well as to those who have added my fics to their favorites list. It means SO much to me that you enjoy my writing! So when I started writing this, I had absolutely NO idea where I was going with it. But, following the advice of my creative writing professor from junior year of college, I let the story take me where it wanted to go. From that process came "Wall Street Wonder". I hope you guys enjoy it! **

**Wall Street Wonder**

Chapter One: Instant Connection

"So, you feel like you'll be comfortable here?" Interim D.A. Jack McCoy asked his newly-appointed EADA Mike Cutter. "Like I said in your interview, I definitely think you can handle the job. Your background's impressive, your conviction rate is excellent, you have a very strong drive to succeed. There's no questioning your capability or competence."

"Jack, I…thank you—thank you very much. It means a lot to me that you believe in me this much, it really does," Mike said honestly.

"Not at all, Mike," said Jack. "I've had my eye on a few people for this job, and I saw something in you—something the other prospects didn't have. So I decided to test you. When I knew I had to get rid of Latham, I gave you some of his cases, and you did great."

"You put others on his cases, too, though," said Mike.

"Yes, but you impressed me the most," said Jack. "You stood out. So welcome aboard."

Mike gave a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Jack."

"Are you about settled in, then?"

"Yeah. I stayed late last night unpacking and organizing my new office."

"Have you been getting the 'why the hell'd you transfer to Homicide' crap yet?" Jack joked.

Mike gave a small smile.

"Yeah, a bit," he answered. "So…did Arthur tell you anything about me?" he asked, referring to Arthur Branch, who'd recently left the post of Manhattan D.A.

"He said you were a 'hard worker' and 'one hell of a spitfire'," Jack replied.

"I hope the latter is meant to be a good thing," Mike said, a bit bemused.

Jack chuckled.

"I took it as southerner speak for 'passionate', and I think passion for justice is a crucial trait in an EADA," he said. "So I think it is a good thing."

Mike gave another small smile.

"Hey—I'm going to have a partner, aren't I?" he asked.

"Yes, you are," said Jack. "And I will tell you from having worked with her myself that you are extremely fortunate because she is fantastic. Very thorough, very talented, very reliable, huge heart…hands down one of the best attorneys I've ever worked with. I want her in this office for as long as possible, so you be good to her. Understood?"

"Absolutely," Mike said truthfully. "She must be one of the best, if you're speaking highly of her."

Jack smiled appreciatively.

"But seriously, you treat her well, or not only will you get your ass handed to you, you'll also have to deal with me, got it?" he said.

"Of course," Mike said.

"Good," said Jack. "She's great, though. You'll love her."

Just then, Connie Rubirosa entered the office, a mug of coffee in one hand and a familiar-looking, blue-backed document in the other.

Noticing that Jack was talking to a man she didn't know, she said, "Oh—I'm sorry! Didn't mean to interrupt!"

"No, it's all right," Jack said. "What's up?"

"Well, I've got good news and bad news," said Connie. "Might I recommend the bad news first?"

Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, so as to fend off a potential migraine.

"I change my mind. I think I'll take you up on your Excedrin Migraine offer," he said.

"Aww, okay," Connie said sympathetically.

From the moment she entered the room, Mike hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her.

Damn it, Mike, quit staring! he mentally scolded himself. You'll creep her out!

He definitely didn't want his new coworkers—especially the female ones—thinking he was a pervert or a womanizer—or one of those chauvinists who condescendingly referred to all his female colleagues by some pet name. He'd had a boss like that—when he was fresh out of law school, working at a private firm. His former boss, one of the firm's partners, referred to all his female employees as "doll".

Mike recalled his mother's reaction to that when he told her about it: Bastard. So help me, Michael, if I ever catch you doing such a thing, I swear to God! That's horrible…

Yes, his highly intelligent mother had instilled within him a strong respect for women.

He awkwardly refocused his gaze to the floor and put his hands in his pockets. He wished his heart rate would return to normal. He didn't know this woman—he'd never even seen her before—so why was she having this affect on him?

"I'm glad that's a motion and not your letter of resignation," said Jack.

"Jack, what makes you think I'd resign?" Connie asked, surprised.

"Oh, it was just a fleeting fear that ran through my mind, since this office is going through an overhaul," Jack replied.

"Jack, I'm not going anywhere," Connie said in a warm, reassuring tone, a small smile on her face.

"That's a relief!" said Jack. "So what's the bad news?"

"The bad news is this," Connie replied, handing Jack the motion. "The Stanton case—motion to suppress the confession. Stanton's lawyer is claiming the confession was coerced. I'll be paying a visit to the 2-7 to find out what's going on."

"I appreciate that because we don't have enough to go on in that case as it is," said Jack.

"Tell me about it," said Connie. "But—I have an idea," she added.

Mike could tell already—this woman was smart as hell.

"There's something in his financials that's just not adding up—no pun intended," Connie went on. "I think it's worth a second look. Would you like to go over it when you're done here?"

"Actually, no," said Jack. "I want you to take our current case files and update your new partner."

"New partner? Jack, that's great—not just for me, but for you, as well! Wow…what a relief! Jack, that's wonderful!"

"You're telling me," Jack said, sounding even more relieved than her. "So what's the good news?"

"You sure you still want to hear it? It certainly can't trump your good news!"

"Two bits of good news are better than one."

Connie chuckled.

"Well, the good news is, somebody brought a bag of Starbucks Caffé Verona to the break room—it's very good, by the way—so we're not stuck drinking sludge. At least not for now," she said.

She paused for a second and then laughed.

"I can't believe I just told you that—it's not even important!" she teased herself.

Mike, who'd been pretending to be interested in Jack's sizeable collection of law books, bit back a smile. He liked her laugh. It was infectious.

"I asked," Jack said, smiling.

Connie smiled.

"Well—that ever-so-vital piece of information being shared, I am about to enjoy a second cup of said delectable coffee," she said. "I'll let you get back to your conversation."

"Actually, I want you to stay and meet your new partner," Jack said, with a nod at Mike.

Mike felt his heart start to beat fast again. He just had to make a good first impression. Jack spoke very highly of her. Mike really wanted her to like and respect him. He wanted to deserve being her partner. That's all it was. Her obvious kind-heartedness, the way she laughed, and the fact that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen weren't part of it at all. Nope—not at all.

He didn't want to give her any reasons not to like or respect him.

"You two don't need me to baby-sit," said Jack, "so I'm going to take my lunch break now. I didn't get to eat breakfast this morning—too much to do. See you two later."

"All right. See you, Jack," said Connie.

Nervous as hell, Mike simply nodded at him.

Jack gave them a friendly smile and left the office, taking his coat off the coat rack on his way out.

Connie set her mug of coffee down on Jack's desk and turned to Mike.

"Hi!" she said kindly.

"Hi," Mike replied, his heart racing.

Connie couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. She also really liked his blue eyes.

"I'm Connie Rubirosa," she said, extending her hand.

"Mike Cutter," said Mike.

They shook hands, which fanned the immediate spark between them.

"Nice to meet you, Mike," said Connie.

"Nice to meet you…Connie."

They looked at each other for a moment.

"So, where are you from?" Connie asked.

Mike shrugged.

"Everywhere and nowhere," he said. After a pause, he added, "That sounded less like bad poetry in my head."

He shook his head at himself.

"That's all right," Connie said, smiling.

Mike really liked her smile.

"My dad was a turnaround specialist, so we moved around a lot," he said. "So, a lot of places…I was born in New York, though…What about you?"

"California," Connie replied. "Though my parents were born in Spain. They both immigrated here, but my siblings and I were all born here."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"I have three older brothers and two younger sisters," Connie replied good-naturedly. "How about you?"

"You're lucky," answered Mike. "I'm an only child…Whenever I was at a particular school long enough to get to know my classmates, the ones with siblings would tell me I was lucky. I would tell them they were wrong."

"I'm sorry you were so lonely."

"It's not your fault, Connie."

They made eye contact for a moment.

Then—

"How about we get to work, then?" Connie broke the silence, irritated at herself for letting him affect her the way he was.

"Okay," Mike agreed, nodding. "I'm gonna get a cup of that coffee and then I'll be right back."

Connie nodded, gathered the current case files, picked up her mug of coffee, and went next door to Mike's new office. She double-checked to make sure she had all the right files. The Morton case happened to be on top of the pile, so Connie decided she and Mike should start with that one.

A bit later, Mike entered the room, carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee and a paper plate. He sat down across from her at his desk.

"Apparently, someone left cookies in the break room, too," he said with a small smile. "One's for you. Consider it a nice-to-meet-you present from me."

"Why, thank you," Connie said playfully, also smiling and taking one of the chocolate chip cookies.

And he's sweet, she thought.

She sighed.

It was definitely time to get to work.


	2. Chapter 2: 'Til Divorce Do Us Part

Chapter Two: 'Til Divorce Do Us Part

"Meet our first victim," Connie said, handing Mike the file on the Morton case. "Edwin James Morton the second."

Mike sat the open file down on his desk and read as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves.

"Edwin James Morton, the second: investment banker with a fortune…two kids…_four_ ex-wives?...Sat on the board of directors for a chamber orchestra…owned huge stock options…Busted several times for soliciting prostitutes—well that explains the four ex-wives…"

"Yeah, seriously. I can update you on the rest," said Connie. "Guy was found in his penthouse with a bullet in his head. Ballistics said it came from a .38 Smith and Wesson, which hasn't been recovered yet. The M.E. puts the time of death between three and four a.m. Some of Morton's neighbors who live a floor below him said a loud noise like a gunshot woke them up. They said they were spooked, so one couple called the cops."

"So was it about his numerous bedroom escapades?"

"You would think," Connie replied. "But we're actually not sure. We've been wondering if it's pissed off ex-wives or money. As you can see, Morton was loaded."

"Yeah. So do any of the ex-wives look suspicious?"

"Well, from what we've seen, no. Ex-wife number one—his kids' mother—got a really good settlement from the divorce. We spoke with the attorneys who handled the proceedings, and they said it actually wasn't bitter, believe it or not."

"'Amicable divorce' should be an oxymoron," said Mike. "It is in _my_ vocabulary."

His bitter tone evoked sadness in Connie.

"I take it you've been divorced then?" she asked.

"Not me, no," Mike muttered. "I've never been married. I was talking about my parents."

"Mike, I'm sorry," Connie said.

"It's not your fault."

They made eye contact for a moment again.

Connie then mentally shook herself and said, "So ex-wife number one really had no reason to kill Morton. He was good to their kids, he was good to her…I'm guessing all the rolls in the sack with hookers happened_ after_ that marriage ended. She was genuinely upset when she learned Morton had been shot. She said they were friends. The kids confirmed it. Also, her alibi checked out. She was out of town at the time…As for the kids, their alibis checked out, as well. At first, we figured they may have wanted their father's money, but they aren't hurting for anything. Both of them have trust funds. The son is an undergrad student at Fordham, and the daughter is a med student at NYU. They were definitely angry at their father for all his happy fun times with prostitutes, but they didn't kill him."

"Okay," Mike said, nodding. "What about ex-wife number two?"

"Detectives Lupo and Green had to interview her over the phone. She lives in Hawaii with her second husband, with whom she cheated on Morton. She said at first, his extra-marital exploits hurt her, but after a while, she quit caring and began looking elsewhere, too. She said when she met her husband, she, quote, 'instantly felt a connection'."

At the words 'instantly felt a connection', Mike felt his heart start to beat faster. He looked down at the floor, away from her.

'Instantly felt a connection…'

As soon as Connie heard herself say that, she snuck a glance at Mike and immediately scolded herself for it.

_Stop it, Connie. Stop it right now,_ she thought.

Letting yourself get attached was_ not_ smart—Connie had learned that the hard way. Attachment led to foolishness; foolishness led to bad judgment, and bad judgment led to heartbreak, being taken advantage of, and humiliation. Attachment was nothing but trouble. It was dangerous.

And Connie refused to fall victim to it again.

"So, her alibi was that she was in Hawaii?" Mike asked, breaking the awkward pause.

"Yep. Said she wasn't exactly sad that he's gone, but her alibi checked out."

"So he cheated on her, so she cheated on _him_, yet she's happy he's dead because it serves him right for cheating?"

Connie shook her head in disbelief at ex-wife number two.

"You gotta love some people," she said dryly.

"What about ex-wife number three?"

"Although she was furious at him for cheating, she didn't shoot him, either. She also doesn't need his money. She's a lawyer employed by Langston, Burns, and Callahan."

"The big corporate firm in New Jersey?"

"Yep. Their pre-nup was _her_ idea because she didn't want him getting any of her money. She was definitely pissed when she had to talk about their marriage, but again, alibi—she was in New Jersey."

"Well, this isn't messy at all…What about ex-wife number four?"

"She was at her _place of employment_ at the time. She's a stripper."

"He went from a corporation lawyer to a _stripper?"_

Connie couldn't help but chuckle at Mike's completely baffled expression. She thought it was cute.

"It's called a mid-life crisis, Mike," she said, smiling good-naturedly.

"I think you're right—that's a good point," Mike said, also smiling.

_And he's got dimples. Great,_ Connie thought, really hoping she wasn't blushing. _Really great._

"Yeah, that's really the only way I can logically explain going from 'Thanks for the lap dance' to 'I love you, let's take the plunge'," Mike said.

"Me, too," Connie agreed. "Heck, I actually think a midlife crisis is one of the reasons men even _go_ to strip clubs in the first place—it's either that or they're just horny chauvinists. Sorry—" she added, "getting off the soapbox."

But Mike didn't appear annoyed at all. On the contrary. His expression was soft, one of admiration.

Flattered by his reaction, Connie smiled.

"So, yeah," she said, her face feeling hot. "She was getting paid to objectify herself at the time of the murder, so that leaves her out, too."

Mike sighed, pausing pensively.

"What about a hired hit?" he asked.

"That's what I've been thinking," said Connie.

"It's a good elimination tactic."

"Yeah…Every case I've ever worked on involving hit men, we were looking at five and six figure pay-offs. No one is going to kill fore hire for less than that."

"Yeah. Let's go over the bank records for ex-wife number one and the kids, since none of them are in dire financial straits."

"All right."

A little while later—

"I'm not seeing anything suspicious, are you?" asked Mike.

"Nope," said Connie. "Nothing's raising any red flags."

"Same here. What does ex-wife number two do for a living?"

"She's a cocktail waitress—I can't see her affording something like this."

"Hmmm…" said Mike.

He went over to the dry erase board in the office and wrote down all the suspects' names and then crossed out those he and Connie had just eliminated.

"I'm a visual person," he explained.

Connie gave a kind smile.

"So ex-wife number three…she's the corporation lawyer, right?"

"Right."

"Well, she was angry, and she's certainly not hurting for money…Have the police looked in to her much?" Mike paused, then added, "I'm sorry, Connie. I don't mean to come off like I think everyone's incompetent."

"Oh, I know!" Connie reassured him. "You just got a new job with a lot of responsibility. You're just trying to make sure you've dotted all your i's and crossed all your t's. I understand. But you know what? Jack is an excellent judge of character. So you wouldn't be EADA right now if he didn't think you deserve it."

Mike looked pleasantly surprised and flattered by her words.

"Thank you, Connie," he said. "I really needed to hear that."

"Sure thing," Connie said.

The way he'd just spoken was so grateful and gentle that it made her heart beat faster and her face feel hot.

"So ex-wife number three is a corporation lawyer with a major firm, and she's not hurting for money. Plus she was pissed about her marriage ending," she said, trying to get them back on track.

"And her alibi may have checked out, but that doesn't necessarily mean she's off the hook yet."

"That's what I was thinking."

"Of course she wouldn't shoot him herself. If she got caught, the Bar would yank her license, and she'd go to prison. She'd lose everything, so why not hire someone else to do her dirty work?"

"Yeah, exactly. He left _her_—an intelligent, respectable, professional woman—for a stripper. She was pretty furious."

"Let's not rule her out just yet."

"Sounds like a plan."

"We work well together," Mike pointed out softly.

"Yeah," said Connie.

Their eyes met again.

_Focus, Connie! _Connie reprimanded herself.

_Quit it, Mike!_ Mike scolded himself. _You're probably creeping her out! Yes, you can already tell she's the total package, but for God's sake, don't let her think you're the stuff of nightmares!_

"So, I think the cops should pull her bank records," he then said, bringing the focus back to their work.

"I'm on it," said Connie.

She picked up her Android and called the 2-7.

"Hey, it's Connie…We're working on the Morton case…Yes, the guy with four ex-wives…Would you and Lupo please pull his third ex-wife's recent bank records? She's the lawyer…Thanks!...You, too…'Bye."

"Great!" Mike said.

"By the way, Detectives Lupo and Green—you'll be meeting them soon," said Connie.

"Okay," said Mike. "So that leaves ex-wife number four."

"Yeah, last time I checked, you don't make much money grinding on a poll," Connie said bluntly.

Mike nodded grimly.

"But on the bright side, we've made good progress," he said with a small smile.

"Yeah," Connie agreed, yet again, hoping she wasn't blushing. "So," she said, going over to the stack of case files, thus avoiding making eye contact with him again, "here's the file for the Roberts case. I think you should be updated on each of these. Why don't I brief you on as much as possible before the work day's over?"

"Okay—sounds good," said Mike.


	3. Chapter 3: Attractive Boss

Chapter Three: Attractive Boss

It turned out Mike was right—the two of them did work well together. By the end of the day, Connie had briefed him on all their current cases. He was all caught up.

"Thank you, Connie," Mike said sweetly. "I feel pretty confident now."

"I'm glad," Connie said, smiling kindly.

Mike resisted the urge to try to make eye contact with her again. He couldn't help himself—he felt a spark already…and he couldn't but wonder if she felt it, too…(Of course, Connie _did_, but she wasn't about to admit it to herself, let alone him.)

Connie checked her watch.

"Hey, I've been here since eight this morning, and it's six, so I'm gonna call it a day," she said. "Listen, I'm going out for drinks with two of my favorite coworkers, would you like to come?"

Mike wanted so much to say 'yes' but decided to do her a favor by continuing to work on their cases alone. He could tell she was just as hard a worker as he was. The office had been without an EADA for a few weeks, so Mike figured Connie had been pretty overwhelmed lately. Why not help lighten her workload? They _were_ partners, after all.

When Mike explained this to her, Connie was very flattered.

"Are you sure?" she asked him.

"Yeah, absolutely," said Mike.

"Thank you, Mike."

"You're welcome, Connie," Mike said softly.

Yet again, their eyes met.

_Connie, for goodness' sake!_ Connie chastised herself. _Stop it!_

"Well," she said, looking down and breaking their eye contact, "I'd better head out now."

"All right," Mike said.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night!"

"You, too!"

Connie entered the local bar, a favorite haunt of several employees at the District Attorney's office. She spotted her two coworkers—Emma Blair and Lacey Bardwell, both from the white collar crimes division—seated at the front counter. The evening bartender, Rick, was currently waiting on a group of patrons seated at the other end of the counter.

"There you are!" said Emma.

"Hi!" Connie greeted them.

"Hi!" Lacey and Emma returned.

Connie seated herself between her colleagues.

"How'd the trial go?" she asked Lacey.

"I ended up pleading him out."

"That's a relief! You told me it was getting bad."

"Yeah—it was getting nasty…How's that prick CFO doing, Emma?"

Emma snorted.

"Which one?" she joked dryly.

Lacey snickered.

"What's his name, Wembley?" she asked.

"Yeah, Lawrence Wembley."

"Lawrence Wembley…That just sounds like the name of a coddled, preppy, Ivy League trust fund brat," Lacey snarked.

Emma snorted.

"Pretty much. He's your standard I'm-rich-and-high-profile-therefore-I'm-above-the-law type," she said.

Connie smirked.

"Jack eats guys like that for breakfast," she quipped.

Lacey chuckled.

"Yep," she said.

"Oh I'm gonna _relish_ putting this guy's balls in a vice," Emma said impishly. "I'm so glad I'm White Collar—like the old adage goes: the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

"One thing, Emma," Connie joked, "before you put Lawrence Wembley's balls in a vice, good luck finding them first."

Lacey laughed.

"Right?" said Emma, smirking. "Men like him are always compensating for something—wink wink, nudge nudge."

Connie chuckled derisively, Emma's words making her think of Marcus Woll.

"Does he have a trophy wife?" Lacey joked. "Or just a bunch of bimbos?"

"He's so loaded, he probably hires high-end prostitutes," said Emma. "Prick," she added disdainfully.

Just then, Rick the bartender approached them.

"Nice to see some friendly faces from the D.A.'s office," he said. "What can I get you ladies?"

"I'll have a Long Island iced tea," said Lacey. "I've had a hell of a week, and I'm not driving."

"All right," said Rick. "And for you two?"

"Can I get a glass of Miller Genuine Draft?" said Emma.

"I'll have an Amaretto sour, please," said Connie.

"All right, I'll be right back with those," said Rick.

"I tried to convince Jack to come," said Lacey. "I've felt so bad for him ever since Arthur left."

"Me, too," said Connie.

"If he were here, I'd buy him all the scotch he wanted."

"So would I."

"I'm sure it's been hectic for you, too, Connie, you're his partner."

"Was," said Emma.

"Was?" asked Lacey.

"Yeah, Jack found a new EADA," said Emma.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," said Connie.

"I'm so relieved for Jack," said Emma.

"Me, too!" said Connie. "He's such a good boss, and the D.A.'s office got flipped on its ass."

"Seriously," said Lacey. "Good old Jack. I want to get him one of those world's best boss mugs—like Michael Scott has on 'The Office'."

"Aww, he'd like that," Connie said with a smile.

"Christmas present!" Lacey noted to herself cheerfully.

Connie smiled again.

Just then, Rick set napkins down in front of them, on top of which he placed their respective drinks.

"Thanks, Rick," they said.

"Sure thing, ladies!"

When he turned his attention to a new group of patrons, Emma said, "Have you guys met the new EADA yet?"

"Yeah," Connie said with a good-natured smile. "I met him today. He made a very good first impression."

She didn't mention the immediate spark she felt when she and Mike met. No way in hell was she going to go there. Again, she didn't even want to admit it to herself, so why would she admit it to her friends—friends who also happened to be her colleagues?

"I may have run into him without knowing it—like in the break room or something," said Lacey.

"Do you recall running into a tall, attractive guy with sandy blonde hair and extremely nice eyes at any point in time today?" asked Emma.

"No."

"Then you haven't met him."

"But he's attractive, you said?" Lacey asked.

Connie suddenly turned to the nearest TV, pretending to be interested in the Mets game that was on.

"Oh yeah, he is _really_ handsome," said Emma. "I mean, we're talking disarming handsome—make-you-dizzy handsome."

_Damn it,_ Connie thought, as she felt herself blushing.

Lucky for her, Lacey and Emma couldn't see her face.

"Nice, I could use some eye candy," said Lacey. "Is he married, though? Because I'll feel guilty gawking at him if he's married."

"Wasn't wearing a ring when I met him this morning," said Emma.

"He's probably got a girlfriend, though," Lacey said, sounding slightly bummed.

_Stop it, Connie!_ Connie firmly reprimanded herself for feeling a pang of jealousy at the idea of Mike having a girlfriend.

"I bet you're right. They all do," Emma said. "Men are like parking spaces—all the good ones are taken."

"Or gay," said Lacey.

"That, too," said Emma.

"Or fictional," said Connie.

"Indeed," Emma agreed.

That night, Connie lay awake, staring at the ceiling. It usually took her a while to fall asleep. She would think about work, errands, any chores that needed to be done around her apartment, work some more, how she planned to spend her next day off (whenever the hell _that_ would be)—and for a change of pace, work.

But that night, it was different. As she lay trying to fall asleep, she thought of work, the nice phone conversation she'd had with her sister Carina (who lived in San Francisco), how she couldn't remember if she'd set the DVR to record the newest episodes of "The Office", "Scrubs", and "House M.D."…and Mike Cutter.

The moment she first made eye contact with him, something ignited within her—a feeling she couldn't quite identify…or rather, a feeling she didn't _want_ to identify because it flustered and scared her.

Talk about a completely new experience…

But she wasn't going to let it get to her—she wasn't going to let _him_ get to her.

She was_ not_ going to get hurt again.

_This is a learning opportunity, Connie,_ she told herself. _The stage has been set for history to repeat itself, but this time? You're not going to take the bait._

"No way in hell," she said aloud.

With that, she rolled over on to her side, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep not too long afterward.


	4. Chapter 4: The Big Picture

Chapter Four: The Big Picture

The next day, Connie received a phone call from the 2-7.

"Connie Rubirosa," she answered her Android. "Hey, Ed…Oh, okay, great…Really? Okay then…Thanks so much…You, too…'Bye." She hung up and turned to Mike. "That was Detective Green," she said. "He and Detective Lupo pulled ex-wife number three's bank records."

"But they didn't find any suspicious-looking withdrawals, did they?" said Mike. "Your tone of voice said it all."

"Yeah, you're right," Connie said with a sigh.

She sat on the edge of Mike's desk, while Mike stood with his sleeves rolled up and his hands in his pockets.

Everything they had on the Morton case was spread out on his desk.

"So much for a hired hit, then…Well, damn…Miss Scarlet with the revolver in the study, I don't know…" Mike said pensively. He suddenly smirked. "Maybe we've been punk'd."

Connie laughed.

"Maybe we have," she said, smiling.

Mike smiled, and Connie mentally kicked herself for feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"It has to be someone he worked with, Mike," she said. "Has to be."

"Yeah," Mike agreed. "So—reasons to bump off a coworker…Money."

"An out-of-hand business rivalry."

"He certainly liked a nice roll in the sack—maybe he was sleeping with someone's wife."

"That's definitely possible…"

"Maybe a coworker he slept with was angry at him…"

"That could be…"

A thoughtful silence fell between them.

Then—

"Mike."

"Yeah?"

"We've been so focused on Morton's adventures in the bedroom that we really haven't been looking at the big picture. What if Morton's actions _were_ the problem—"

"—But not those of the conjugal variety?"

"Right. What if he was doing something or did something to piss off someone at the bank that's completely unrelated to how much he got around?"

"I bet you're right, Connie," Mike said.

He checked his watch.

"We've got the motion hearing for the Reynolds case in forty-five minutes," he said. "But after that, I think we should come right back to this case. I think you're right."

"Sounds like a plan," said Connie. "And not to praise myself too much," she added.

"I don't think you're doing that at all," Mike said sweetly.

Connie didn't want to look at him after he spoke, even though she was quite flattered.

"I appreciate that," she said, totally downplaying her emotions. "Well," she went on, furthering her efforts to prevent him from bringing forth any feelings from her, "let's go over our arguments for the hearing—make sure we're prepared."

Mike nodded.

"You're right," he said, not wanting to admit to himself that he wanted their eyes to meet again.

_Remember—no creeping her out,_ he berated himself. _Don't be an idiot!_

He helped her gather up their files for the Morton case and neatly put them aside and then lay out their files for the Reynolds case.

The two of them then went over their argument, and Connie played devil's advocate to help them better counter what the defense would be presenting.

"That was close," said Mike, as he and Connie left the courtroom.

The two of them won the motion hearing, but narrowly.

"Very close," Connie said.

As they walked down the courthouse steps, they encountered Emma Blair, who was heading up the steps, carrying her briefcase.

When she saw Connie, she smirked and said, "Wembley trial."

"How's it going?" Connie asked.

"Let's just say the vice is tightening," Emma replied impishly.

"Nice," Connie said, with a smile.

"Indeed," said Emma. "Mr. Cutter," she added to Mike.

Her tone of voice and her nod at him were cordial and professional, but the smile she gave him was blatantly flirtatious.

After they reached the sidewalk, and Emma was out of earshot—

"Oh you lady-killer, you!" Connie teased him, in order to help herself suppress the pang of annoyance she felt towards Emma for flirting with him.

"Very funny," Mike said. "She does that every single time I see her," he explained, shaking his head.

_Quit it,_ Connie told herself for feeling glad that he didn't like it that Emma flirted with him.

"I'm sorry," Connie said. "Obviously it bothers you."

"It's all right. You didn't know…I'm sorry I spoke to you like that. I've been pretty stressed-out lately. That's an explanation, not an excuse. I'm really sorry, Connie," he said sincerely.

"It's okay," Connie said, keeping her gaze focused forward so that, again, their eyes wouldn't meet.

_Don't be an ass,_ Mike scolded himself for feeling disappointed that she didn't seem at all annoyed that another woman was flirting with him. _You have no right to feel like this. As if she could ever see you as more than a friend anyway. She's way out of your league!_

"So," said Connie, "back to the Morton case, then."

"Yeah…" Mike agreed, still mentally kicking himself.


	5. Chapter 5: The Plot Thickens

Chapter Five: The Plot Thickens

When they got back to the D.A.'s office, Connie took out her Android and was just about to call the 2-7, when there came a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Mike called.

Jack entered the room.

"We've got an important visitor," he said. "My office."

"All right," said Connie, as she and Mike followed Jack into his office, where an important-looking man stood.

"This is Lance Bertram," said Jack. "He's with the SEC."

Mike and Connie each shook hands with Mr. Bertram, as Jack said, "This is my EADA Michael Cutter and my ADA Connie Rubirosa."

"I'm here in regards to Edwin Morton. When we found out about his murder, we wondered if what I'm about to share with you would be of any help to your investigation. Normally, SEC investigations are confidential, but seeing as this could be connected to a homicide, the Commission has authorized me to speak to you. We received a tip from someone who worked with him at Wentworth and Collins. We were investigating him for front-running—a type of securities fraud," said Bertram.

"How does that work?" asked Connie.

"Say I'm your broker," Bertram explained, "and you place an order with me for one thousand shares of stock. Well, what I'm _supposed_ to do is place your order first. However, instead of doing that, I place an order for five hundred shares of the same stock for _myself_ first at, say, ninety dollars per share. After I do that, I then place_ your_ order for one thousand shares, which will drive up the price to, say, ninety-two dollars per share. This allows me to then sell the shares I bought for, we'll say, ninety-one seventy-five, which results in quite a nice profit for me."

Connie nodded comprehendingly.

"So was he actually ripping off his investors?" asked Jack. "Or did you not get far enough into your investigation?"

"We were in the process of looking over his transaction records," Bertram replied. "We definitely found evidence of front-running. Obviously the whole investigation is moot now, but if we'd pieced together any more fraudulent transactions, odds are, he wouldn't have just been fined or imprisoned. We would have revoked his brokerage license."

Mike and Connie exchanged glances. Connie's hunch about Morton was spot on.

"Did any of his investors find out what he was up to, do you know?" asked Mike.

"We interviewed them," said Bertram. "They all sounded shocked. We don't think any of them knew. Front-running is pretty easy to hide. With, for instance, computer trading, one can split up large stock orders into smaller ones. Morton did some of that, actually."

"Do you know if anyone was in on the scam with him?" Connie asked.

"That I'm not sure of," answered Bertram. "In the tip we received, only Morton was mentioned. But front-running can be done with third party involvement, so it _is _possible. We just didn't look into it, though, because again—only Morton was reported to us."

"Mr. Bertram, should Morton's fraud end up being connected to his murder, would you be willing to testify, should we go to trial?" asked Mike.

"Absolutely. I'd have to clear it with the Commission, though, but I don't see why that would be a problem," said Bertram. "Again, we don't know if that information will be of any help, but in case it is, you have it."

"We appreciate you coming by, Mr. Bertram," said Jack.

"I think it's going to end up being very useful," said Mike, shaking hands with Bertram.

"You're welcome, and I hope it is, Mr. Cutter," said Bertram. "Well, I'd best be heading back. Mr. McCoy—Ms. Rubirosa," he added cordially, shaking hands with Jack and then with Connie.

"My secretary will show you out," said Jack.

After Bertram left, Connie closed the office door and said, "Well—I never saw that one coming. Normally with the feds, everything's a power trip."

"I think fate just handed you your motive on a silver platter," said Jack.

"No kidding," Connie agreed. "I was just about to dial the 2-7 when you came and got us. We need to investigate the brokers at Wentworth and Collins who knew Morton the best."

"That sounds like a plan," Jack approved.

Connie smiled at him.

"I'll go call the precinct," she said.

She then left the room.

Mike turned to Jack.

"You were right about her," he said. "She's brilliant."

He hoped he wasn't giving himself away, whether by the tone of his voice or his facial expression or by blushing.

"I know I was," said Jack. "I knew you'd like her."

Mike nodded at him and then went to join Connie back in his own office.

"I just didn't know you'd like her _that_ much," Jack muttered under his breath, clearly highly amused.

Connie dialed the 2-7.

"Hey, Lupo, it's Connie…Pretty good, you?...This is about the Morton case again…Would you and Green please interview all the brokers at Wentworth and Collins who worked with Morton? One of them is our murderer…It's funny, actually, it just sort of fell into our laps. An SEC agent came in and told us they were investigating Morton for securities fraud, can you believe that?...So if you and Green could talk to them, that would be great…Oh and be sure and mention that—that the SEC was investigating him. That may help draw out the person who reported him, who I'm sure isn't the person who shot him…Right—why report him to the feds and then kill him?...Yeah. I'm also thinking it could draw out the person who _did_ kill him. They might panic, thinking the feds are on to _them_, as well…All right, thanks so much, and good luck on your exam…You're welcome. 'Bye."

Mike stood there and watched her, unable to help himself—he was in awe of her. She _was_ brilliant…and kind and clever and beautiful…

Shit, he had it bad already…The moment he first saw her, he suspected he was doomed, but lately, he'd been becoming more and more sure of it.

As she spoke on the phone, Connie could sense Mike's eyes on her and felt annoyed with herself for the increase in her heart rate.

She turned around after hanging up, and before she could stop herself, her gaze met his.

"So," she said, mentally shaking herself, "that sound like a plan to you?"

"Yeah," Mike replied, also mentally shaking himself, "yeah, definitely. I guess now we wait…But just to make sure we're on the same page, you think Morton's murderer was in on his fraud scheme? I just want to know what you're thinking," he added sweetly.

_Stop it!_ Connie scolded herself for melting a bit at that.

"Well," she said, "I really don't think he was murdered as punishment."

"Yeah, me neither—Bertram said front-running is easy to hide, and all of his investors were completely shocked when they found out. I'm sure only an investor would kill him as punishment," said Mike.

"What if one of his fellow brokers killed him because they wanted all the money he was making? What if he or she wanted in on the scam, but Morton said 'no way', and that pissed him or her off enough to want him dead? That's what I'm wondering," Connie elaborated.

"I like that theory," said Mike. "Then again, _should_ we rule out the investors? Bertram's from the SEC—murder investigations aren't exactly his forte."

"That's a _very_ good point," said Connie. "Sorry—guess I got a little too caught up in my theory."

"It's a great theory."

"Thank you."

"So, what if we look into the investors, and leave the brokers to the cops?"

"Works for me."

"By the way…you're welcome."

"So," Connie said, trying to prevent herself from staring into his eyes again, "we should coordinate our visit with the cops' visit to the bank."

Connie and Mike worked it out so that they would visit Wentworth and Collins to find out who Morton's investors were and then Lupo and Green would speak with the brokers who knew Morton the next day.

When Connie and Mike reached the bank's receptionist—

"Hi!" she greeted them. "How can I help you two?"

"Hi, yes, may we please speak to whoever is in charge of securities here?" asked Connie.

"You know, we've had several couples come in recently wanting to sell their shares—"

"Whoa," said Connie, hoping she wasn't blushing, "we're not—"

"Yeah," Mike said, his heart racing, "we're not a—"

"We're not together," said Connie. "We're from the District Attorney's office. I'm Connie Rubirosa, this is Michael Cutter."

They showed her their credentials.

"Oh my gosh, excuse me, I am so sorry," the receptionist said sheepishly. "Securities, you said?"

"Yes," said Connie. "Or _you_ might be able to help us. We're working on the Morton case. We need a list of his investors."

"And if you can't help us, we're happy to come back in a bit with a subpoena," said Mike.

"All of our clients are kept in a database, which anyone who works here is able to access," said the receptionist. "If I do a search for Edwin Morton, his clients should come up in the results."

"Their names and phone numbers are all we need," said Connie.

"Okay. Why don't I just copy/paste their names and numbers into a list for you?"

"That'd be great."

Mike and Connie waited patiently for a few minutes.

When the receptionist was done—

"Here you are," she said. "Anything else I can do for you, counselors?"

"Thank you," said Connie, taking the printed-off list.

"Thanks," said Mike with a brief smile. "We'll let you know if we need anything else."

With that, he and Connie left to get started on their interviews with Morton's investors.

A few weeks later—

Connie entered the break room for her usual morning cup of coffee.

As she waited on the coffee maker to finish brewing, Lacey entered the room, also wanting coffee.

"Hi!" Connie greeted her.

"Morning!" said Lacey. "How're you?"

"Doing well, you?" Connie said with a smile.

"Pretty darn good!" Lacey replied.

"Are you still seeing that forensic accountant? Sorry, I forgot his name!"

"Charlie? Yeah, I am! We had a really important conversation on the phone last night. Both of us want to know exactly what's going on between us. We're going to talk about it over pizza at his apartment. So it looks like we're going to be putting a label on it."

Connie gave a small smile and nodded as she listened.

"_And_ I'm giving my summation in two hours, so…yeah—big day for Lacey," Lacey went on.

"Aww, well good luck with everything!"

"Thanks, Connie! You're such a sweetie."

The coffeemaker was done brewing.

Just then, Mike entered the break room, hoping for some coffee himself.

"Hi!" Connie greeted him.

"Hi!" he returned sweetly.

Connie let Lacey get coffee first.

_Go, Connie!_ Lacey thought in a congratulatory manner, picking up on the spark between Connie and Mike.

She filled her mug with coffee, then said, "Have a good day, Connie! You, too, Michael!"

"You, too!" Mike said.

"Thanks, Lacey, you, too!" said Connie.

Lacey exited the break room.

Connie filled up her mug and then the second mug she had with her, which had the Yankees logo on it. She added a little half-and-half to hers.

"That's a nice mug," Mike said, nodding at the Yankees mug. "Its owner has good taste."

Connie smiled and said, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Just black is fine," Mike said, a bit puzzled.

"Oh, okay," Connie said warmly. "By the way—this mug is for you. Consider it a late welcome-to-the-D.A.'s-office present from me," she added, handing him the Yankees mug.

"Connie," Mike said, flattered by her thoughtfulness.

"What? You didn't think I was just gonna keep letting you drink from those Styrofoam cups, did you?" Connie said kindly, smiling.

"You didn't have to get me a present…" Mike said shyly.

"Sure I did," Connie said.

"Thanks, Connie. I really like it, it's great!" Mike said, smiling.

"You're welcome, Mike," Connie said, really hoping she wasn't blushing.

Why did he have to be so handsome?

She was still trying to convince herself that giving him a present was just a gesture of friendship—nothing more.

Mike then stood back chivalrously so she could exit the break room first. He then followed her out.

The two of them agreed the previous evening that they would update Jack on the Morton case first thing the next day.

"Morning!" Connie said cheerfully after knocking on Jack's slightly open office door.

"Good morning!" Jack said with a smile.

"Jack," Mike said, acknowledging him.

"What's with you, Mike? You look like a kid in a candy store," Jack said, amused.

"Connie just got me this mug for no reason," Mike said happily, holding up the Yankees mug.

"Ah," Jack said with a nod, smiling. "She got me a fountain pen for my birthday. I use it to sign everything."

Mike felt a rush. He hadn't known Connie for very long, but he could already tell what an incredibly kind person she was. He already thought she was amazing. She was making it very difficult for him not to have feelings for her.

"So what do I owe this visit?" asked Jack.

"We decided you need to be updated on the Morton case," said Connie.

She looked at Mike.

"We looked into Morton's investors," he said. "They're all clear."

"What about his fellow brokers?" Jack inquired. "How are the cops doing there?"

"Morton had four main colleagues," said Connie. "I got a call this morning on my way here. The cops have ruled out one Angela Draven. The other three are still on the suspect list. And here's an interesting tidbit—Lupo and Green found out who reported Morton to the SEC: Penny Shelton. She's a stock analyst with a Ph.D. in finance from Harvard. She said she caught him trying to get in to her office computer. She works with some large corporations, so she has private, insider information stored on it. She thought he was trying to access that information, that he was up to something, so she reported him. She said she came to the police in case that information could be useful…Anyway, Lupo and Green need a warrant for the home of Morton's colleague James Ferguson, so I'm off to take care of that. And yes, I can make it back before the Gregson motion hearing. Judge Phillips—she likes me. She'll sign it in a heartbeat," Connie said with a smile.

Connie got the warrant to Lupo and Green, and then she and Mike went over everything for their motion hearing for the Gregson case, which they ended up losing.

"Damn it," Mike said.

"It's okay," said Connie. "It's not over yet…Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I could go for lunch now."

The two of them decided on a nearby sub shop, which was one of Connie's favorites.

"So…what do you like to do when you're not working?" Mike asked, wanting to get to know her better.

Connie swallowed a drink of Diet Coke.

"Well…I like going to plays, going to movies, renting movies, going to football games…I've even been to an opera before! Jack had a friend who couldn't go to _La Traviata_ last year at the Met, so he gave Jack his tickets, and Jack took me with him. It was a lot of fun!"

Mike was both surprised and hurt by those words.

Connie and _Jack?_

Now _there_ was a combination he never would've thought of.

"I…I never would've thought you'd consider Jack your type…" he said softly, not looking at her.

"What? Oh, no, no—Mike, it's not like that at all!" Connie said kindly. "There is nothing between me and Jack, nothing at all! He's a mentor and a—I don't want to say 'father figure' because my father has always been a huge part of my life, but…an uncle, maybe? A godfather? I don't know, but you get the point. That is me and Jack's relationship. That's all it ever has been and all it ever will be…And trust me—if I thought he was coming on to me, I would've raised hell."

Mike gave a small, brief smile.

"_But,_" Connie added, "he would never do that to me, so no worries."

She suddenly wondered why on earth she felt the need to clear the air. It wasn't like she owed him an explanation—she didn't. So…why the long-winded monologue? What was it to her if he had the wrong idea about her and Jack?

Well, the idea of her and Jack in a romantic relationship _was_ completely erroneous…

_That's all, _she told herself. _You just don't like it when people have the wrong idea about something. It's that simple._

…Or _was_ it that simple?

_Yes, it is,_ she tried to convince herself.

It wasn't like she wanted Mike to know exactly what she and Jack were to each other because she had feelings for Mike and didn't want to hurt him. That wasn't it at all.

_Connie, for God's sake!_ she scolded herself.

"But my favorite hobby is reading," she said. "I've practically got my own library at home. And no, it's not all law books," she joked.

Mike gave a small smile again.

Connie finished her lunch and took another sip of Diet Coke.

"So what about you? What are your hobbies?" she asked.

"I read a lot, too," Mike replied. "I like to watch movies, some TV…my favorite hobby is watching baseball, though, whether it's on TV or at Yankee Stadium, though I prefer Yankee Stadium. I've gotten season tickets for a few years now, actually."

"That's great!"

Mike finished his lunch, took a sip of his Coke, and then said, "Yeah, it is…You know, Connie, if you ever wanted to go with me—"

All of a sudden, he was interrupted by Connie's Android ringing.

Connie gave Mike an apologetic look as she took the call.

"Connie Rubirosa…Yes, how'd it go?...All right, and his alibi checks out, everything's clear?...All right, then, that gets _him_ off the suspect list. Thanks! And we'll get drinks once this pain-in-the-ass is closed…You, too…'Bye."

Connie hung up and turned to Mike.

"That was Lupo. James Ferguson is clear," she said.

"So that leaves only two brokers left," said Mike. "Finally—a resolution seems tangible."

"Seriously," Connie agreed. "I don't recall ever working a case with so many suspects."

"Me neither."


	6. Chapter 6: Protégée

Chapter Six: Protégée

Mike and Connie decided to work on a different case, so they could take a break from the murder of Edwin Morton. At the moment, they were looking at a vehicular homicide case, complete with a love triangle. They were in Mike's office, reviewing statements made to the police, when there came a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Mike called.

The receptionist entered the room, followed by a young, brunette woman in her '20s.

"Mr. Cutter—Miss Rubirosa—this woman would like to speak with you about one of your cases," said the receptionist.

"Okay," said Mike. "Thanks, Roberta."

"Sure thing," said the receptionist.

She left.

"Hi," Connie said to the young woman. "I'm Connie Rubirosa, this is Michael Cutter."

"Hi," the young woman said, nervously shaking hands with the two of them.

"Which case did you need to talk to us about?" Connie asked her.

"It's about Mr. Morton," the young woman replied. "I'm Erin Johnson. I'm sure you already know that I worked with him at Wentworth and Collins."

"You can sit down if you'd like, you don't have to stand," said Mike.

"Oh—okay. Thank you," said Erin, sitting down next to Connie. "See, I interned there when I was at Princeton, and then they hired me. I didn't kill him, I swear. He and I were very close. I was really upset when I found out he'd been shot. When I was an intern, he took me under his wing…He was a great mentor to me, he really was. And I feel really bad telling you this, which is why it's taken me so long to come forward. But I know it's the right thing to do."

"What is it, Erin?" asked Connie.

Erin sighed.

"Mr. Morton had a plan, and he asked me if I wanted to be a part of it—if I wanted to make some extra money with him and Mr. Decker," she said. "I thought he was referring to something harmless, like going to a casino. But it turned out he was planning to commit fraud—he and Mr. Decker. He told me we'd split the profits three ways. I said 'no thank you' because I didn't want to risk ruining my career over something unethical. I've only been a broker for three years, and I'm still paying off my college debt," she said.

"We understand," said Connie. "That was a wise decision. If you were to get caught, you could've been tried in federal court."

"Yeah, I wasn't about to lose my brokerage license and go to prison," said Erin. She paused, and then went on. "I didn't tell anyone what Mr. Morton and Mr. Decker were up to."

"Did they threaten you?" asked Connie.

"No," said Erin. "I promised I wouldn't say anything, and they believed me…I don't know…Part of me feels like I'm betraying Mr. Morton, but part of me is ashamed of him. I mean, he was breaking the law…"

"And the SEC found out about it," said Mike. "One of your colleagues reported him, so he was under investigation."

"Oh my God," said Erin. "I…wow…"

She paused as that sunk in.

Then—

"You must think I'm such a coward," she said. "But…I just felt guilty about turning on my mentor. I'm sorry…And again, I didn't kill him. If the cops need to look through my apartment, I'll cooperate. They won't need a warrant. I was at home the day he was killed, too. You can ask my roommates and my neighbor. I wouldn't kill Mr. Morton. He was good to me…Well—that's really all I've got to say. I thought I'd try to be helpful, but I guess I wasn't, was I?"

"You did the right thing in coming here, Erin," said Connie. "And you _were_ helpful."

Erin gave a wry smile.

"Are you close to finding out who shot him?" she asked.

"We think so," said Connie.

Erin nodded.

"Thank you, Miss Rubirosa—Mr. Cutter," she said. "I won't take up any more of your time."

Without another word, she left the room.

Connie turned to Mike.

"Think she's telling the truth?"

"I think I know I've had it to high heaven with this case when I'd rather read about a vehicular homicide caused by people's tangled love lives," Mike replied.

Connie smiled sympathetically.

"You're not alone there," she told him.

"But seriously, yeah, I do think she's telling the truth," Mike said. "What about you?"

"I do, too," Connie replied. "_But,_ we'll only for sure when Lupo and Green get back to us."

Mike nodded.

"So, what do you think? Back to the love triangle?" he said.

"Sure," said Connie.

The two of them picked up where they'd left off with the case they were working on before Erin Johnson showed up.


	7. Chapter 7: Complications

Chapter Seven: Complications

That night, as she lay in bed, attempting to fall asleep, Connie first thought about the vehicular homicide case that'd made its grand entrance into the D.A.'s office just yesterday.

_God,_ _the more I learn about the whole thing, the more I'm reminded of bad soap operas, _she thought.

She then thought about Erin Johnson's visit. Her gut instinct told her Erin was telling the truth, but it was like she told Mike—they would just have to wait and see what Lupo and Green found out.

And it would've been entirely too easy for her to fall asleep otherwise, so of course she started thinking about Mike.

She was so glad, though, that he liked the Yankees mug. But unless she was mistaken, it wasn't just the gift itself that made him happy—it was also the act of giving.

She'd made Mike happy. That meant more to her than she was willing to admit.

And she'd made him smile his handsome smile that gave her a rush. She _definitely_ wasn't willing to admit _that_ to herself…

And then another thought came to her. That afternoon, as they were eating lunch together…was it her imagination, or had he sounded hurt by the idea of her and Jack together?

_ Oh, he wasn't hurt,_ Connie lied to herself. _Quit reading too much into things. Why would he be hurt? Why would he even care if you were seeing someone? You're full of it, Connie._

She thought of Lacey and Charlie the forensic accountant. How had their conversation gone? She hoped well. Lacey was such a nice person.

_Charlie had better not make her the one that got away. If he does that, he's an idiot, _she thought. _As for me, I'm perfectly content being single. Being single is safe. You're not wasting time or energy on someone who will probably just end up hurting you anyway. Being single means no wasted time, no wasted energy, no pain, no embarrassment, no vulnerability, no broken trust, no getting taken advantage of, no feeling like an idiot, and most importantly, no regrets._

She thought one more thing before sleep finally took her: Why'd she have to meet him? Why'd he have to come into her life? Why couldn't Jack have hired someone else? Why couldn't he work for another D.A.? Why Manhattan? Why not Queens or Brooklyn or The Bronx or Staten Island?

Damn him. Damn Michael Cutter for complicating things.

The next morning, Connie entered the break room, coffee mug in hand. Lacey and Emma were there, waiting on the coffeemaker to finish brewing.

When they saw Connie—

"Shh—we're taking the last of the Starbucks for ourselves," Lacey whispered.

"We're jerks!" Emma whispered jokingly.

Connie grinned.

"Don't worry—your secret's safe with me," she bantered. "Hey, how'd it go with Charlie?" she asked Lacey.

"Oh it went great! We actually didn't talk for too long. I think it was about a half an hour. I don't know why I thought we'd talk longer, but…" said Lacey.

"So what'd you two decide?" Emma asked eagerly. "Spit it out, woman! You're my best friend, I have to know!"

"Well," Lacey said, suddenly all smiles. "We made it official. I now have a boyfriend."

"Sweet! Congrats!" Emma said excitedly.

"Yay!" said Connie.

Lacey smiled as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She was blushing.

As Emma helped herself to coffee, Mike entered the break room, carrying his new mug.

"Morning," he said sweetly to Connie.

"Good morning," Connie replied.

She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was happy to see her. That gave her a rush of the butterflies, for which she immediately became irritated with herself. That irritation increased when she realized a small part of her wanted to see him smile.

She poured herself some coffee and went to add some half-and-half to it.

Emma, who was finished doctoring her coffee, turned her attention to Mike. She winked and smiled at him flirtatiously before leaving to start her work day.

Mike shook his head, which Connie saw him do out of the corner of her eye.

"You have to ask her to stop that, Mike," Connie said, stirring her coffee as an excuse not to look at him.

She could add 'annoyance with another woman for flirting with him' to her list of current reasons why she was irritated with herself.

"I should wear a sign that says 'I'm not interested'," Mike muttered.

"Don't do that," Connie said, focusing even harder on stirring her coffee. "Then no woman will ever express interest…"

_You idiot, Connie! _she chastised herself. _And how about you add insult to injury and start blushing, too? You _idiot!

She could feel Mike's eyes on her all of a sudden. Her heart began to beat faster.

Mike's heart was racing, too.

_Could _you _ever_ _express interest?_ he thought towards Connie.

Lacey had already left the break room.

"So," Connie said, looking up at him. "Shall we start our work day?"

"Yeah," Mike said, playing it cool.

He stepped back and allowed her to leave the break room first. He then followed her out.


	8. Chapter 8: Who Dun It?

**Fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gents! There's a lot going on in this chapter! LOL Again, thank you SO SO SO much for reading, it means so much to me! And now I present to you, chapter 8! 8D**

Chapter Eight: Who Dun It?

The two of them started with the vehicular homicide/love triangle case.

"Okay," said Mike. "So Lindsey told the police she didn't see Amy on Sunday evening, but her office closes at three on Sundays?"

Connie scanned Lindsey's statement.

"Yep—that's exactly what she told them. Well—_that's_ not suspicious at all," she said sarcastically.

Suddenly, her phone rang.

"Connie Rubirosa…Oh, hi, Ed!...Okay…All right then…Yeah, Mike and I were pretty sure she was…All right, check him out and let me know if you need any prosecutorial intervention…All right. Thanks, Ed!…'Bye."

"Detective Green?" asked Mike.

"Yep."

"Let me guess—the Morton case?"

"Oh of course."

"What's the latest?"

"Turns out we were right about Erin Johnson. She let Lupo and Green look around, she was very cooperative…She doesn't own a gun, her record's clean, and her alibi checks out. She's practically a Girl Scout. That leaves Henry Decker, and if it's not him, well…" Connie said, ending with a shrug.

"Maybe it was the murder fairy," Mike quipped.

Connie snorted. She really liked his dry wit. She bit back a smile.

Mike gave a small smile when he noticed he'd amused her.

"Well, let's see," said Connie. "Erin told us Morton and Decker were conducting their little fraud scheme together…"

"Yeah…"

An hour later—

Connie's phone rang again.

"Hello?...Oh, all right. I'll get started on it right away…You're welcome…'Bye."

Mike, who'd been reading a file while lightly tossing his baseball into his mitt, looked up.

"What's up?" he asked.

"That was Lupo," said Connie. "Henry Decker won't let him and Green search his house without a warrant, so I'm going to get that taken care of."

"What about his office?"

"He let them look around. They seized his computer for his transaction records. Other than that, they didn't find anything of note."

Mike nodded as he listened to her.

"All right…Why don't we go over everything we have on him?"

"Okay," Connie agreed, taking out their file on the Morton case.

She had info on each suspect paper-clipped together, which was what she did with all of her case files, so that they'd be as organized as possible.

"Okay," she repeated, finding their info on Henry Decker. "Well…he's been a broker for fifteen years, but he's been with Wentworth and Collins for three years…He used to work as an accountant…and he's got a masters in finance from Brown University."

Mike sighed.

"Well, that's not much to go by. Here's hoping the cops find more," he said.

"They will," Connie assured him. "Well—I'd better take care of that warrant, so they have a _chance_ to find more," she added.

After she got a judge to sign the warrant, Connie drove to the precinct to deliver it to Lupo and Green.

"Hey," they greeted her.

"Hey," she returned. "Here you are," she added, handing them the warrant.

"Thanks," they said.

"No problem," said Connie. "So how's the investigation of Decker going?"

"A forensic accountant is going over his transaction records. He'll let us know if he finds anything," said Lupo.

"So Morton was being investigated by the SEC for what he was up to. Did they find anything incriminating on him?" said Green.

"Yes, they did," said Connie. "They had enough on him to yank his brokerage license. That's what would've happened to him if he were still alive."

"So they weren't investigating Decker, or were they?" Green asked.

"No, they weren't, according to the agent we spoke to."

"So, if the accountant finds anything, what you gonna do?"

"Well," Connie said, "we have testimony from Erin Johnson that Morton and Decker were working together. Morton asked her if she wanted to be in on it, and she turned him down. I'm betting the accountant _will_ find something, then. As for what we'll do with Decker, that's up to Jack. The feds have been surprisingly helpful, so maybe it'll stay that way. Maybe Jack won't have to pull any strings to stop a jurisdiction war."

"I would think murder is a more serious charge than securities fraud," said Green.

"No kidding," Connie said grimly. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. All this is assuming Decker's the murderer," she added.

"Well, we're about to get to the bottom of that," said Lupo. "What do you say, Ed?"

"I say we pay Henry Decker another visit," Green replied, holding up the search warrant.

Again, to take a break from the Morton case, Connie and Mike were working on a new case that had just come to their office—a woman suspected of being a serial murderer of all her husbands. The _Ledger_ ran a story about her early that morning, nicknaming her "The Manhattan Black Widow".

"So her second husband's been missing since 2000," said Connie.

"The autopsy report for husband number three says he committed suicide by shooting himself…It's not that difficult to stage a suicide," said Mike.

Connie was about to reply with 'yes', when her phone rang.

"Hello?...All right…Oh, good. Anything from the forensic accountant yet?...Okay. Keep us updated…'Bye."

"What's up?" asked Mike.

"That was Lupo. He and Green found a .38 Smith and Wesson buried in Decker's closet. Lieutenant Van Buren had Ballistics put a rush on it. Also, no news from the forensic accountant yet."

"How much do you want to bet the gun's a match?"

"I know, right? I think everything is on the verge of falling into place."

"Here's hoping."

The next day—

Mike and Connie were working on the Manhattan Black Widow case.

"It says here she filed a missing person's report for husband number two," said Connie.

She and Mike had divvied up the file on Mrs. Celeste Hughes, the suspect.

"Probably to deflect suspicion off herself," said Mike.

"That could be," said Connie.

The two of them had been so deep in concentration that they both jumped when Mike's Blackberry rang.

Mike picked it up.

"Michael Cutter…All right. Pick him up."

"What is it?"

"Decker's gun was a match."

"Can't say I'm surprised."

"Same here."

**Ohhh damn! Shit just got real! :-P LOL Stay tuned for the fall-out! :-D **

**And here's an interesting factoid for you: the story about the woman accused of being a serial murderer of all her husbands? Totally real. I took that right out of the local paper this past summer. The woman either died awaiting trial for first degree murder or died while on trial for first degree murder, I can't remember-and she really was accused of murdering each of her husbands. I tweaked the story a bit-obviously, the suspect in my story isn't dead. Plus, I changed her name. But as soon as I saw that story in the paper, I was like, I HAVE to pull a ripped-from-the-news move here. LOL I also changed the setting. It wasn't actually in Manhattan. And since the media jumps all over stories like this like pirhannas during a feeding frenzy, I came up with the nickname "the Manhattan Black Widow". Just thought you'd like to know that. LOL (And I know, I AM a little proud of myself for all that. XDDDD) **


	9. Chapter 9: Let's Make a Deal

Chapter Nine: Let's Make a Deal

A couple hours later—

Connie, Mike, and Jack were in Jack's office.

"Did the forensic accountant find anything?" asked Jack.

"No," said Connie.

"But that doesn't mean Morton and Decker weren't working together," said Mike. "What about the broker who told us the two of them asked her to be in on their scam?"

"You said she told you Morton asked her."

"But she mentioned Decker," Connie spoke up patiently. "She told us that Morton came to her and asked her if she wanted to be in on the fraud scam with him and Decker."

"All right," said Jack. "Do you have anything else?"

"We got the ballistics report this afternoon," said Connie. "The bullets from Decker's gun are a perfect match to the bullet used to kill Morton."

Jack nodded.

"Talk to Decker and his attorney. Offer him a plea," he said.

Mike and Connie met with Henry Decker and his attorney Vince Donohue in Decker's cell at Riker's.

"So, what're you offering?" asked Donohue.

"Murder two, twenty to twenty-five," said Mike.

"What've you got on him?"

"Well, his co-worker Erin Johnson gave him up," said Connie. "She told us he and Morton were in on the securities fraud scheme together, and Morton asked her if she wanted to be in on it. She turned him down."

Donohue snorted mockingly.

"He said, she said—simple as that," he said.

"A jury won't think so," Mike said darkly. "You see, Miss Johnson knew Mr. Morton very well. And if we end up going to trial, I'll be asking your client all about the fraud scheme when he's on the stand—every last detail. But trust me, I'm much more agreeable during plea bargains than I am in court."

Decker looked like he knew Mike wasn't messing around.

"That's nice," Donohue said dismissively.

"That's not all we've got, Mr. Donohue," Connie said, an edge to her voice. "The bullets from your client's gun are a perfect match to the bullet used to kill Morton."

"Forensic evidence definitely isn't 'he said, she said', so don't give us that again," Mike said coldly.

"Well, you know, Mr. Cutter, what you and your_ lovely_ assistant"— (at those words, Connie's face bore a disgusted 'Excuse me?' expression) — "should know is that my client is a well-respected stock broker with no criminal record. How do you know he's not being set up?"

"Are you serious?" Mike said, a smile of derisive amusement on his face.

"I think we all know that's a stretch, Mr. Donohue," Connie said coldly.

"Is it?" Donohue challenged.

Mike and Connie chose to ignore that.

"Murder two, twenty to twenty-five," said Mike. "That's our offer—and it's the best offer you're going to get, Mr. Decker, so I suggest you take it."

"I like your chances with a jury, Henry," said Donohue.

"That is _not_ good advice, Mr. Decker," said Connie.

"I could spin this scenario a dozen different ways," Donohue boasted.

"I don't care if you can spin it a hundred different ways, Mr. Donohue. If you make me present to a jury, he's got _no_ chance at all. I will _eviscerate_ him," Mike threatened.

"If we go to trial, and you're convicted, a judge could give you a much longer sentence, Mr. Decker," Connie said firmly. "We may be required to find out _why_ you shot Mr. Morton, but trust me, a jury won't care _why_ you fatally shot him. They're only going to care _that_ you fatally shot him—and that we can prove it."

When she saw the unmistakable deer-in-headlights look on Decker's face, she knew her words had done the trick.

Mike knew it, too.

_Wow, Connie,_ he thought, impressed.

Just like that, she had Decker backed into a corner.

Mike felt a rush. God, she was so fucking brilliant…

"All right!" Decker finally said, exasperated. "All right—I'll take the deal. What do I have to do?"

"Tell us just what the hell you were up to—everything that happened," said Mike. "Then you'll go in front of a judge and allocute to everything, and then you'll get your deal."

"Mr. Donohue will explain to you what an allocution hearing is," said Connie. "But for now, tell us everything."

Decker sighed heavily.

"Start with the fraud," Mike ordered.

"All right," said Decker. "A few months ago, I decided I needed to make some extra money. The economy is absolute shit right now, and we brokers took an especially hard hit because the Stock Exchange has been shot to hell. I went to Morton about my idea because he was the smartest out of all of us. I figured he'd know what to do. He said he knew _exactly_ what to do. We discussed his plan over drinks in a crowded bar, so no one would overhear us. Basically, in layman's terms, what he was doing was—"

"We know what he was doing," Mike interrupted him. "An SEC agent explained it to us. The SEC was investigating Morton."

"Son of a bitch…" Decker marveled. "Anyway," he continued, "Morton said he'd handle everything—the transactions, falsifying the records, all of it. He told me just to sit tight and not worry. He also said that because he was doing all the work, he wanted half the profits. I agreed. He was a better broker than me, so I trusted everything would go smoothly—that his investors and the SEC would be none the wiser. As for the Johnson girl, she's always been Morton's little protégée. He said she still had college debt to pay off, and, of course, the economy was kicking_ her_ ass, too. Like she told you, Morton offered to let her in on the scam, but she turned him down. She was too afraid of getting caught. I'm glad she said 'no'. It was my idea to commit fraud in the first place. None of it concerned her. I told Morton that, and he got it. He reassured me she wouldn't tell anyone, and I told him he'd better be right. But she went to the SEC, didn't she?"

"Actually, she didn't. That was someone else," said Connie. "Someone who caught Morton trying to hack into her computer—one of your stock analysts."

"Shit…" said Decker.

"Why so surprised, Mr. Decker? I thought you'd be thrilled that the SEC was only after Morton and not you," said Mike.

"Of course, they will be _now_," said Connie. "So why'd you kill him?"

"Because the son-of-a-bitch ripped me off!" Decker said angrily. "It was all my idea to make extra money—he was just helping out! We agreed to split the profits, but the bastard kept every last damn dime for himself! He kept bragging to me about what he was going to buy: Armani suits, season tickets for the Jets, a condo in Florida, expensive dinners and gifts for hookers in exchange for all the sex he wanted, more stock shares…I had to listen to all that shit! I kept asking him 'Where's my money, Morton', and he just kept saying he was working on it and that I'd get it soon. Every single damn time I asked, that's what the bastard would tell me—every single damn time! That went on for a couple weeks, until I finally decided that asking wouldn't do the job. I figured that asking had to become demanding. So that's what I did. Whenever I could do so, I would demand that he pay up—discreetly, of course. But not even that ended up working.

"When I finally realized I'd been ripped off, I knew I had to do something about it. No matter how much I hassled the bastard, he just kept ignoring me. So I found out where he lived. His building has a fire escape, so I used it to reach his penthouse. I went there in the middle of the night, I broke in, I confronted the double-crossing son-of-a-bitch, and I blew his fucking brains out. The end. So there you have it, counselors. That's what happened."

"Mr. Decker, you knew Mr. Morton," Connie said bluntly. "You knew that he turned on most of the people in his life. You honestly thought he wasn't going to turn on you, too? Did you think you were special?...You aren't exactly a criminal mastermind, are you?"

Mike snorted, struggling to keep a straight face.

"That's cute," Donohue said snidely.

Mike was staring down at his hands, which he had folded in front of him, knowing that if he caught Connie's eye, he would crack a smile.

He paused for a moment and then put his prosecutorial game face back on.

"We'll let you know when the date of your allocution hearing has been set," he said. "And you'll have the paperwork for the plea by the end of the work day today."

With that, he and Connie got up and left Decker's cell.

After they'd exited the prison and were heading towards Mike's car—

"Rookies," Mike joked, smirking.

Connie burst out laughing.

When the two of them got back to One Hogan Place, they went to see Jack.

"How'd it go?" he asked them.

"He took the plea," said Connie.

"His attorney's a complete stupid prick, but Connie convinced him not to listen to the guy," said Mike. "So I think we have her to thank."

Connie smiled shyly.

She could tell by the way he spoke to Decker and Donohue that he was an extremely tough prosecutor. But there was a side of him that was very sweet. Connie wondered if she was one of few who actually got to see that side.

_Oh, don't flatter yourself, Connie!_ she thought. _That's probably just the way he is when he's not on the job. He's probably that way with everyone who isn't a murder suspect._

She didn't know it, but she actually was one of few who got to see his very sweet side—and out of everyone in the office, she got to see it most.

"Thank you, Mike, but I really think that was both of us," she said bashfully.

_Now_ this _is entertaining,_ Jack thought impishly, picking up on the sexual tension between her and Mike.

"Wait," Connie said, "Decker admitted the fraud was his idea. We should tell the SEC."

"But what if they try to fight us for jurisdiction and undo everything we just did?" said Mike.

"Well, they were helpful before, weren't they?"

"That was different, Connie, what if they try to haul him off to federal court, and we never actually get to punish him for murdering Morton?"

"Mike, obviously murder is a much more serious charge than securities fraud."

"But even you said earlier that everything with the feds is a power trip."

"Well, yeah, but this is different. That agent helped us."

"But Morton's dead, they don't have a case against him anymore. But obviously with Decker, they do."

"Mike, we can't just keep this from them. At least I can't—not in good conscience."

"I think she's right," Jack chimed in.

"Oh, like you've never tried to bypass the feds before," Mike said sarcastically.

"Yes, but I learned my lesson," Jack said. "I got my ass handed to me. Ask Adam. Anyway, don't worry about the feds, you two. I'll take care of that. Another lesson I learned," he added with a smile, "District Attorneys can pull strings."

Connie smiled.

Mike looked like he still wanted to debate the matter but couldn't think of what to say.

That evening, after the work day ended, Jack and Connie went to a bar together.

"So has he driven you up the wall yet? Are you mad at me for unleashing him on you?" Jack joked, referring to Mike.

He took a drink of his gin and tonic.

Connie swallowed a sip of her cosmopolitan.

"Who, Mike?" she asked, suddenly smiling. "No," she said, chuckling. "No to both."

"You probably think he's a walk in the park compared to me," Jack said, now chuckling himself.

"Maybe," Connie teased him. "Hang 'em High McCoy."

"Christ, I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Jack said, though he was still smiling.

Connie laughed.

"Probably not!" she joked.

Jack chuckled at himself and took another sip of gin and tonic.

"Oh, Connie—where would we be if we couldn't laugh at ourselves?" he mused.

"Probably not in a very good place," Connie said good-naturedly.

The two of them enjoyed their drinks in silence for a moment.

Then—

"So do you like him, then?" Jack spoke up.

Connie's heart began to race.

_Knock it off!_ she scolded herself.

"I thought you two would be a good pair," Jack went on.

Connie almost choked on her drink. She really hoped she wasn't blushing.

"You know, a good team," Jack elaborated. "There's a good balance there."

Connie swallowed.

"Yeah, I agree. I think it's going to work out," she said truthfully. "He's very smart. And he treats me very well, too…Where'd you find him?"

"He was a transfer from Brooklyn—Narcotics division," Jack replied. "He was in _our_ Narcotics division for a little bit. He had the highest conviction rate and the best law school transcript out of everyone in the division, and I'd heard he was considering switching to Homicide, so to test the waters, after I fired Latham, I gave Mike some of his cases, and he handled all of them very well. Then he put in for the EADA job, and the rest is history."

The highest conviction rate _and _the best law school transcript out of _everyone_ in the Narcotics division? Connie didn't want to admit to herself that she found it _very _attractive that Mike was that intelligent.

"Everyone thinks you're crazy for switching to Homicide," she said, in an attempt to distract herself. "I remember some of the remarks I received. But I wanted the challenge."

"I remember Arthur telling me about you—coming from White Collar."

"I wasn't sure you'd warm up to me because of that and because of what happened to Alexandra Borgia. I know you two were very close."

"I saw her as a protégée—just as I see you. But, you know, Connie, you're also like a second daughter to me."

"Aw, Jack…" Connie said, moved.

Jack smiled and patted her shoulder.

They drank in silence for a little bit.

Then, after Jack ordered a second gin and tonic, Connie said, "You know, before we left the office, I went to the SEC's website. They settle the majority of their cases without going to trial."

"I'll drink to that," Jack joked.

With that, he lifted his glass and did so.

Connie couldn't help but laugh.

**Stay tuned, everybody! The whole story concludes in the next chapter! Thank you SO much for reading. I can't say that enough. Also, I'd like to give a shout-out to the SEC for having such an easy-to-read and user-friendly website. Very sensitive to the research needs of amateur writers like myself. LOL 8D **


	10. Chapter 10: And the Lord Did Grin

_**And here the story reaches its conclusion. Again, I want to thank everyone who has taken time out of their busy schedules to read this story. It seriously means SO much to me! I can't thank you enough. It's seriously very flattering. :-)**_

Chapter Ten: And the Lord Did Grin

The next morning—

Mike and Jack got to the office before Connie did.

Jack had stopped at Dunkin Donuts on his way, so he already had a nice, large coffee to get himself through the morning.

Mike wanted to treat Connie to some coffee. He'd made sure to memorize her favorite drink from Starbucks.

He leaned in the doorway of Jack's office.

"Starbucks run, Jack. I'll be right back."

Connie got to the office before Mike got back. She set her briefcase down on her desk and went into Jack's office.

"Hi!" she greeted him.

"Good morning!" Jack said. "I have some news for you and Mike—but I'll wait until he gets back."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with you running for D.A., would it? Wink wink, nudge nudge," Connie joked, smirking.

"I tell you, Connie, your powers of subtlety never cease to amaze me," Jack bantered, also smirking.

Connie laughed.

At that moment, Mike returned, holding a Starbucks drink in each hand.

"Well," he said, "I suppose there's one good thing about what's-her-face from White Collar making a pass at me every time she sees me: when I got back, she held the door open and pushed the elevator button for me."

Connie mentally kicked herself for feeling pleased that Mike wasn't at all interested in Emma.

_It's not like he's interested in you,_ she thought. _And it's not like you _want_ him to be interested, anyway...Right? _

…Right?

"Hi," he said sweetly to Connie.

"Hi," she returned, her heart pounding and her stomach feeling all fluttery.

Mike's heart was beating double time, as well. He knew getting her coffee was a pretty insignificant thing, but he hoped she didn't see it that way. He hoped it would brighten her morning at least a little bit.

"This is for you, Connie," he said, handing her drink to her. "It's a grande, nonfat raspberry mocha. I know it's your favorite Starbucks drink."

Connie smiled, quite flattered by his sweet gesture.

"Mike—thank you!"

"You're welcome!"

Mike couldn't help but smile, thrilled that he'd made her happy.

When Connie took hold of her drink, her fingers lightly brushed his. She tried really hard to ignore the shiver she felt when that happened.

That physical contact had the same effect on Mike, who also tried to ignore it.

"So what news do you want to share with us, Jack?" Connie asked, mentally shaking herself.

"News?" asked Mike, intrigued.

"Right after you two left the room yesterday afternoon, I contacted the SEC about Decker," said Jack.

"So, what, do we have to roll over and play dead for them?" Mike asked resentfully.

"Mike."

Connie said his name as a gentle way of telling him to calm down.

"No, we worked something out," said Jack. "They're going to deal with Decker, but, like most of their cases, it will be out of court. They're offering him a plea. If he pleads guilty to securities fraud and conspiracy to commit fraud, he'll serve concurrent sentences for those charges and for murder."

"And if he doesn't take the plea?" said Mike. "Then what? He doesn't go to prison until after he's tried in federal court? Weren't we trying to avoid that situation?"

"After what Connie said to him when you two met with him and his attorney, I think he'll take it," said Jack. "It's either twenty to twenty-five or twenty-five plus. I don't even think someone with an attorney as foolhardy as Vince Donohue can turn that down. I really don't think we have anything to worry about."

Two hours later—

Mike and Connie were working on the vehicular homicide/love triangle case while they waited to hear whether they could put the Morton case behind them or not.

Just then, there came a knock on Mike's office door.

"Come in!" Mike called.

Jack entered the room.

"I just got off the phone with the SEC," he said. "Decker took the plea. So congratulations—you're finished with the Morton case."

"Thank goodness!" Connie said, with a satisfied smile.

Jack smiled.

"_That's_ a relief!" said Mike.

"It certainly is," Jack agreed. "Now you two get to put the Manhattan Black Widow case at the top of the priority list!" he teased them, looking over his shoulder at them and smirking as he made his way out of the room.

At six that evening, Mike and Connie decided to call it a day.

Mike wanted to ask Connie if she'd like to go out for a drink with him—just the two of them—but wasn't sure if he should. Would it make her think he was unprofessional? Or worse, would she think he was being creepy?

_Maybe you should play it safe and just keep your mouth shut,_ he thought sadly.

Why did he have to feel so attached to her? Sure, he'd had girlfriends he was pretty fond of, but this? Mike was pretty sure this was something else entirely. And all it took was one look at her. With just one look, Connie Rubirosa turned his world upside down.

As the two of them reorganized their files and packed up their briefcases, there came a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Mike called.

Again, it was Jack. He was all ready to depart for the day.

"Do either of you have plans for the evening?" he asked, as the two of them finished packing up.

"No," Connie and Mike replied at the same time.

"How would you like to go out for a steak dinner—my treat?"

"Aww, Jack!" said Connie. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing wrong with coworker bonding, is there?"

Connie smiled.

"Absolutely not," she said.

She and Jack looked at Mike for an answer.

"I—I don't want to intrude…" Mike muttered. "Three's a crowd, after all…"

"Mike," Connie said warmly, "you wouldn't be intruding at all. Jack invited you. Please come with us."

Mike looked at her after shutting his briefcase. When their eyes met, he knew he couldn't say 'no'.

"Okay," he said.

Connie smiled, and his heart began to race.

_You're so beautiful,_ he thought.

"Good," said Jack, also smiling. "Now get your briefcase, and let's get the hell out of here!"

Mike gave a small smile, picked up his briefcase, and he and Connie followed Jack out.

After a hostess showed them to a table, Mike pulled a chair out for Connie, who felt her face growing hot. She hoped the lighting in the room could hide her blushing.

His stomach feeling all fluttery, Mike seated himself next to her. Lucky for him, the table was round, so they were all sitting by each other. He didn't want it to be obvious that he wanted to be near Connie.

The three of them enjoyed a nice bottle of champagne (served over ice) while they waited on their entrees.

"This was really sweet of you, Jack," Connie said gratefully. "Thank you!"

"Yeah, Jack—thank you," Mike said humbly, not used to being included in things.

"You're both very welcome," Jack said kindly. "So," he continued, swallowing a sip of champagne, "the mayor called me today and said he's not going to be able to go to _The Magic Flute_ at the Met next weekend. He has two tickets and asked me if I wanted them, and I said 'sure'. Would you like to see another opera, Connie?"

"Oh my gosh, absolutely!" Connie said.

"You'll like this one, it's a Mozart classic," said Jack.

"Great!" Connie said brightly.

Mike secretly felt left out but kept it to himself. There were times when he could deal with his loneliness and times when he just couldn't. He awkwardly took a drink of his champagne.

"Those aren't the only tickets he gave me. He and his wife and son have plans, so they're also unable to attend this next event," said Jack.

"What is it?" asked Connie.

"I've got three tickets to the Yankees/Red Sox game the Saturday after next," Jack replied.

Mike choked on his champagne.

"Aw, Mike!" Connie said, concerned, patting him on the back.

"I'm okay, Connie…" he muttered, blushing. "Thanks…"

_Good job,_ he told himself sarcastically.

"Holy _shit!_ Are you _serious?_" he asked Jack, trying to shake off his embarrassment.

"Completely," Jack said, chuckling.

"Have you checked to see how good the seats are?" Mike continued, his blue eyes wide with surprise. "They're probably fantastic! How the hell would the _mayor_ not get some of the best seats?"

"They probably are some of the best," Connie said, smiling.

"Damn," Mike said in awe. "I'm positive his seats are better than _mine!_"

"Mike?" Connie said.

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to go to that game alone anymore," Connie said with a warm smile.

"No, I don't," Mike said happily.

He suddenly smiled, his dimples showing.

Connie melted but did her absolute best to hide it.

"I'll check the tickets and let you know," Jack said with an amused smile.

Suddenly, Connie's Android beeped, signaling her receipt of a text message.

She dug it out of her purse and read the message.

"It's from Green," she said in an unimpressed, are-you-kidding-me tone of voice. "They've been working on the Manhattan Black Widow case. She's been married five times. Her most recent husband worked for an investment bank—Stewart, Baker, and Holmes."

"Another dead broker," Mike said in the same tone as her.

"Well—it's like my mother always said: God has a sense of humor," said Jack.

THE END

_**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! 8D ~Abby**_

_**Please excuse the shameless self-promotion here, but I have other "Law and Order" stories posted on the site, as well, so if you haven't read them, please feel free to take a look! I also have other "L+O" fics in the works that I'll be posting eventually! :-)**_


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